


Heartfelt Contemplations

by nyxxbx



Series: Bel'annar'is [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), F/M, Fade Tongue, Mutual Pining, Pining Solas (Dragon Age), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxxbx/pseuds/nyxxbx
Summary: Fen'rei Lavellan contemplates the meaning of the Fade kiss.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan & Solas
Series: Bel'annar'is [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733095
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Heartfelt Contemplations

A gasp echoed through the room, the sound bouncing around the marble walls. Her golden eyes opened abruptly, lashes blinking as she struggled to chase away the blurriness. Fingers clenched around the wool of the sheets, she inhaled one, two, _three_ breaths of the crisp air of dawn, lips tingling, waist, the back of her neck, her jawline, the flesh still remembering the touches of the storm. 

The storm being the elf just one floor underneath her.

Her head shook to clear the thoughts swirling through her mind, hands enveloping her abdomen to shush her heart's murmurs as it beat and pounded heavily against her ribcage. She winced as she grasped the skin, the bruises tender and intent on staying embedded there.

She let out another breath, her irises searching the covers, as if the pristine fabric would give her the answers she sought. Her body was stiff, exhausted and craving to pull back under the covers and sleep.

That dream, vision, _whatever_ , did not give her the rest she wanted. 

Was her mind truly capable of creating such a vivid dream?

 _It felt so real_ , she thought, as her fingertips traced the flesh of her bottom lip, still feeling the urgency, desperation, roughness as he gave into his craving. Everything about him there made an electrifying feeling course through her veins, and perhaps her own sprout of magic had blossomed when she dreamed about him.

She couldn’t be certain, though.

Such a discovery would change things.

" _You change everything._ " 

Her hand flew into her moonlight tresses, brushing through her hair as she remembered the words. Fingertips grazed the wrapped gash on her temple and she winced, hand slipping to her neck, the recounts of his touch loud in her mind. 

_Mythal, ma halani_ , how could she appear before him?

Her throat felt dry, her feet grazing the stone of the cold floor. 

Could he have seen the vision?

 _Fade-walker,_ Iron Bull’s voice echoed in her head.

She blushed.

What would they all think if they knew that the Fade-walker did more than just walking in the Fade?

 _Na dahn'direlan_ , what if he had witnessed the extent of this attraction she had been hiding?

Her elbows greeted her knees, her abdomen screaming in pain as she did so, her palms rubbing circles through her tangled locks. She swept the floor with a frustrated glare, contemplating on how to fix this mess she had created, one foot jumping up and down. 

What would his reaction be if she were to encounter him? She was certain he wouldn't speak of it if there were people around, to save her the pain of blushing cheeks and stuttering words tarnishing her reputation as the Inquisitor, _no_ – he would most likely ask her to converse in private and then– 

Would he reject her unconscious advances?

She _could_ pretend it never happened, call him delusional, demand to know why he was scouring through her dreams– _yes_ , she was the authority here, she could prevent this from escalating, assure him that it was an idle, short-lived crush and that she could not control what worlds and realities her dreams created. 

Her heart jumped, stomach churning, fingers trembling and twitching.

The lightness she had felt awakening from the dream had disappeared and instead she felt as if her bed was a never-ending abyss, ready to swallow her and prevent her from leaving this safe bubble of _what could have been_ she had conjured.

She stood up, head shaking – almost as if she was denying the heartache the thought of his rejection would cause her – and walked to the basin. Ignoring the wave of dizziness her sudden movements had caused, she would have to be gentler with herself, she splashed water on her face, widened eyes gazing at the _vallaslin_ running across her cheeks, cheeks he had touched with a motion so soft, a _caress_ –

No. 

Stop.

Enough. 

_Fen'harel ver na_ , you are the Inquisitor. A leader. An authority figure with a reputation to uphold. 

She needed a distraction. And she had to avoid him.

Somehow.

How could she when he would be there in the rotunda, elegant fingers slipping across the open tomes.

They had slipped over her neck and jaw with same gentleness – 

Work.

She had work to do. A pile of letters, stacked neatly, sharply, waiting by the table.

 _Yes_.

Work.

She had to accept the greetings and gratefulness of the nobles that had never even seen her, and yet offered their eloquent compliments. The worshipping, she had never truly realised how much she hated it. Her Clan was always strict with their beliefs, despite being entangled with _shem'len_ matters, and even her brother had mentioned that he would like to believe in the Maker. 

Fen'rei never understood the mindset. She simply couldn't accept the existence of immortal beings that continued to be worshipped, praised, elevated beyond reasonable levels and for what purpose?

The world existed in different shades of grey. And that's how it always was. 

At least for her.

And for him.

 _No_.

Gently brushing her features with the cloth, she dressed herself in her usual attire-- an amber tunic, olive-shaded fitting trousers and lastly, the comfort of her plum-coloured leather coat. Her feet approached the wooden desk and her form had taken its place at the comfortable, expensively cushioned chair.

 _Tsk_ , of course they would line her with pleasantries. She was only shocked not to find the bed golden and dripping with silk. _Best not to give them ideas,_ she concluded.

The rays of dawn disappeared quickly, as she focused on scribbling across the parchment, fingers stained with the navy-blue ink, hand tired and aching from working to maintain the perfect handwriting.

 _Poise and elegant-- yet with a hidden calculating swerve_ , she recited in her head as she finished her signature. Josephine would approve. 

She was hoping to receive a letter from her Clan.

Signature written, letter read. Once, twice, three times, she went through them anxiously and none offered the shaky phrasing of her grandmother and Keeper Deshanna.

Nothing.

Just nothing, not even a note. A sentence. One word. _Nuvenan ma amahn--_ I miss you.

Nothing. Static and silence, frightening, deafening quiet.

She never felt like she belonged with them. They were all used, and happy, to wake up at dawn to go fishing, to hunt, to skin and prepare the food, to call out to the Gods for good wishes and they were bound together because of those traditions. She failed at each and every one of those and would observe them from a close distance.

Close in body, but so far away from them in spirit.

Now… she was just _far_.

She missed them.

 _Perhaps, they don't know about Skyhold,_ she hoped internally, a dark beast already raging behind her ear, cursing her. Her throat cleared to break the tightness rising from within, as she stacked the answered letters neatly in her hand and rose from her chair. 

As she descended the stairs, her thoughts focused on how to maneuver through the castle without being seen or noticed. A part of her knew it was impossible – she would have to walk through the main hall to reach Josephine’s office – but, she remained stubborn with quick and precise steps nearing closer to the wall, head low and frame hunched.

If only her hair didn’t stand out in the dimness of the vast hall.

Her head nodded in a greeting towards Varric across the hall, his frame hunched over another book. Her fingers smoothed out the creases on her leather trousers and she hoped Josephine would not notice the smudges of ink on her coat.

Fen’rei disliked being scolded by someone as polite as her.

Taking a deep breath, she entered.

Josephine was already deep in discussion with their Spymaster, Leliana's fiery hair hidden beneath the dark slate of her hood. 

"Ah, your Worship! We were awaiting you.” Josephine was quick to greet, hands gripping a parchment.

Fen'rei momentarily paused before the Diplomat's desk, annoyed by the title she had used. Her ears would have to get accommodated to that, too. She placed the answered letters on the wooden surface, eyes shifting to Josephine's granite ones as she raised an eyebrow.

“We were just discussing what your attire should be for the upcoming ball." Leliana said, hands behind her back.

Fen’rei froze. _Attire?_ They couldn’t expect her to protect the Empress from assassins in a dress and heels, could they?

Josephine’s brows furrowed if only for a moment as she glanced at Leliana.

"What do you mean by _my attire_?" Fen’rei questioned.

Leliana stifled a giggle. 

"For the Winter Palace, of course. I've already began with the preparations for it, and the nobles are quite ecstatic to hear you will be there, too." The Diplomat said, hands slipping over the parchment.

"They are certain you will be star of the night, by the duke's words." Leliana said, an amused quirk on her thin lips. 

Fen'rei narrowed her eyes, the crinkle between her brows appearing, and for a moment her head rang with sharp pain. "I thought we were there to thwart Corypheus' plan of assassinating the Empress, not dally and drink around." She questioned, eyes softening to prevent the oncoming headache. 

Josephine and Leliana exchanged amused glances, and Fen’rei could feel a flush of embarrassment raise on her neck.

"I would agree, but unfortunately, that is not how the Game is played." Leliana nodded, crystal eyes alight with reminiscence.

"And that is Empress Celene to you.” Josephine scolded.

A pit formed in Fen’rei’s stomach.

“I've already sent word to Orlais to hire an educator. It is crucial you know everything there is to know about Orlais' history and the ways of the court within the Palace." Josephine continued.

"I've read about Orlais before –" Fen’rei tried to interject.

"He's also a dance instructor. I'm not aware of how much dancing The Dalish indulge themselves in, but you, Inquisitor… I am afraid you will have to be an exception." She proceeded, voice blissfully unaware as she scribbled across the parchment. 

Fen'rei gaped for a moment, cheeks burning once she noticed Leliana chuckle at her incredulous expression.

She could barely walk stroll through the main hall of Skyhold, _her_ headquarters, and they expected her to – what? Charm Orlais? _Her?_

" _Wait_ , Josephine, _da_ \-- dancing? How does that connect with stopping the assassination of _Empress Celene_ ," she couldn't help but to let out dryly, "ultimately preventing Corypheus from gaining a foothold in Orlais. That means he doesn't get the demon army he dreams of. The demon army that would destroy all of Thedas? Does that ring a bell? Will I dance with her all night to make sure she doesn't wander off and get poisoned, or stabbed? Will I dance with her assassins, too?" She continued, voice tinged with a hint of panic.

Another sharp pain tore through her temple and she resisted the instinct to wince.

Josephine handed the signed letters to Leliana, nodding in a greeting.

Leliana excused herself from the office with a graceful bow and a lasting smirk on her face. Josephine let out a sigh as she turned back to the Inquisitor.

"As much as I hate to admit it, _yes_ , I am afraid it is expected of you to create the best entrance and appearance possible. It would earn the Inquisition a great number of supporters and uphold its reputation."

 _There she goes with the reputation, again,_ Fen'rei thought bitterly as she let out a sigh. 

"When is the educator expected to be here?" She questioned, head cocked to side.

She noticed the Diplomat’s eyes softening, and frustration bloomed in her stomach. Fen’rei didn’t want their pity. She would have to be more careful with showing her emotions.

"Next month, they believe. Depends on how difficult their journey will be." Josephine replied, though the silence that lingered in the air prodded for more.

Fen'rei nodded, feet already moving towards the exit, hand fumbling with its marred twin. "We'll have a meeting later to discuss the upcoming missions. Thank you for informing me, Josephine." 

"It was my pleasure, Inquisitor."

A deep intake of breath.

"Inquisitor – I… I was wondering how are you faring? Haven was… trying." 

The question was unexpected and Fen’rei paused, heart fluttering in momentary panic.

She was silent, eyes narrowed, the entire event playing out in her wounded head. She pursed her lips. Golden irises swept over her palm, a light, veridium glow emitting from within them.

 _Trying_ was one word for it. A familiar word, at that. 

"We lost a lot of people. They didn't deserve to die like that. But Corypheus will get what he deserves. I just… I hope I can lead us towards that victory." Her voice was steady, and yet there was a hidden tone of pain entwined with the syllables.

Josephine shook her head and Fen’rei wondered for a moment what it meant.

"What about your Mark? I know Corypheus used the orb to try and recapture it. Is it – does it hurt?" She prodded, eyes creased with concern Fen’rei had seen from dozens of other people, and yet she still found it to be uncomfortable.

Fen'rei looked down at her palm, feeling the pulsing energy from within, the way it spread through her nerves, meddling with her blood, twisting and pulling.

Yes. It did hurt. It crackled, it growled, it was anguish. It would burn through, trying to reach for something that she knew the energy was missing. It found nothing. And then it crackled, again. It was a painful cycle, one that found its pause near Solas’ presence.

She could feel a flush rising, and in a moment of panic she cleared her throat.

She was the Inquisitor. She shouldn't complain about such small matters.

Plastering an amused smirk on her lips, she looked at the Diplomat. "Only when I laugh." 

Josephine's lips lifted upward as she rolled her eyes, a small sigh leaving her throat. "Very well, your Worship. We shall speak later." 

Fen'rei exited the room with more anxious thoughts than she had prior to entering it. She felt the itch in her fingers, the curiosity buzzing from within her. The educator would be here in a month, and that was just enough time for her to do her own research on Orlais customs and perhaps ask someone to teach her the basics of dancing and moving to a rhythm.

She couldn't be completely clueless.

Such feeling made her feel weak, anxious and prone to panicking.

That shouldn’t happen.

She paused before the door, the murmurs of the nobles around her gritting. The library would offer peace. Silence. Solace.

She swallowed.

Her hand was already on the door, the metallic coldness enveloping the Marked palm, when she remembered she would have to cross Solas' rotunda to get to the upstairs library. 

_Fen’edhis_.

She paused before the door leading into the circular room, and she could hear the shuffle of pages as he flipped them. Her mind depicted the scene behind the door, his tall and broad frame sitting at the table, jawline tensing as he read something completely incorrect in a passage, brows crinkling in disapproval, full– tempting… lips pursing, lithe fingers gracing the paper, mouthing the words –

"Quicksilver? You doin' okay?" Varric questioned, raising an eyebrow at her frozen form before the door. 

Fen'rei flinched, torn away from the scene in her mind, head turning towards Varric.

She nodded frantically. " _Ah_ – yes. Quite alright, Varric. Just lost in thought, you know how it is." She pushed onto the heavy door before he could question the flush in her cheeks. 

Solas was leaning over the table, muscled, yet lithe arms holding onto the edges, silver eyes scouring the tome on the Old Gods, his brows furrowed as he read through the paragraphs. He could sense her before she entered the rotunda, and his gaze immediately flickered towards the mural he had finished. 

The twinkle in her eye glistened proudly, and the _vallaslin_ on her cheekbones was more detailed than before their escapade in the Fade. Her image before him, in his arms, the feel of her against his skin was enough of an inspiration for him to complete the work, to feel satisfied with what he had accomplished. 

He swallowed.

It took every ounce of strength and willpower within him to not seek her out as soon as he awakened. To feel her again, against his lips, his flesh, _there_. 

Her scent was overwhelming as she entered the rotunda, embrium and echoes of the fir forest lingering on her being. She was silent, her footsteps nimble and quick, unnoticeable and graceful, but he could sense her. He was always buzzing with a delightful, electrifying tingle whenever she was near. If she were a mage, he would've suspected it to be her fault.

She was not.

Golden eyes spotted him immediately, and she had to bite her lip to stop the sigh from her lips as he raised his silverite irises from the tome on his table, muscles moving as he leaned away from the table.

The storm was filled with mirth, mischief, craving and she could feel the same excitement course through her stomach. The overwhelming feeling of confidence lurked around her tongue and with that ravishing, intense look in his eyes, she was certain it was his fault for the magic that happened in her dream.

No, not dream.

The Fade. 

His hunting grounds. 

An upward quirk of his full lips.

"Sleep well?" The silky tone of his voice teased, and it took everything in her not to snap.

Her jaw tensed as she watched him, aware he was calculating her reaction. She cocked her head to the side innocently, reveling in the feel of his eyes as they slid down her jawline, throat–

_Stop, you idiot._

She cleared her throat, looking away for a moment.

"I've never done that before. I've never been aware of what I'm doing in the Fade. Didn't think I'd be doing _it_ there, either." His eyes flickered to her lips, but it was a passing moment she almost believed she imagined. 

He was the image of temptation and she narrowed her eyes, struggling to calm the pulse racketing erratically at her tendons.

His eyes steeled, shoulders tensing.

"My apologies. The kiss was impulsive and ill-considered. I should not have encouraged it." The answer burned cold as it struck her, and her brow furrowed.

Oh, the resisting _felasil_. She would've believed him, were it not for the way his eyes burned as they gazed down at her features, irises moving as they mapped every slope and curve, his jawline tightened and sharp.

She despised the table between them. Frustration bloomed in her stomach.

"You say that, but you're the one who started with tongue." She said, and the irritation in her silent voice may have been a bit too obvious.

She saw a flicker of panic in his eyes and his lip quirked.

"I did no such thing." He answered quickly, his throat moving alluringly as he swallowed. 

"Oh? Does it not count if it's only _Fade tongue_?" She added sarcastically.

Curse his existence and curse the overwhelming rush of adrenaline it gave her.

He let out a sigh, eyes moving downwards as he shook his head. "It has been a long time and things have always been _easier_ for me in the Fade." 

She raised an eyebrow, sensing his restraint. He was not rejecting her, that much was clear to her, but there was a part of him resisting, wanting yet slipping away. She saw that control shatter, if only for a moment, last night.

Curiosity itched at her fingers, yet again. He was always within her dreams, a flicker of him, an outline, a whisper. The moment they shared only proved to her that he had been entwined with her, in the Fade, longer before they started noticing the growing attraction. Her feet circled the desk gracefully and she came to stand before him, lightning eyes searching for their storm. 

"So I've noticed. I've never said it bothered me." She murmured, hands moving behind her back as she focused on not letting the tremble of her fingers show. 

Her heart hammered against her chest, and she was certain it had never felt this good.

He gazed at her form before him, tongue wetting his lips as he took a step back. "I am not certain this is the best idea. It could lead to trouble." He pleaded, and he sounded breathless, like he had just come up from air.

"I'm willing to risk it. If you are." She took a step forward.

His lashes hit his high cheekbones, his lips opening as he let out a breath. She could notice the flush under his jaw, crawling down his throat and the hidden neck beneath his woolen sweater. 

"I– may be. _Yes_." His hands were suddenly behind him as he nodded, feet moving but not going backwards. "If you could give me some time to think."

He was flustered, and the sight made her lips itch with the want to grin.

She didn't move this time, choosing to stay still and save him from the panic that was so _obviously_ coursing through him. "Take all the time you need." Her voice answered sweetly, lips spreading in a smile and she heard his breath falter. 

"I– thank you, _vh_ –" His chest raised as he took a breath and she arched her eyebrow.

He cleared his throat harshly. "Inquisitor."

"Solas." She gave him another tempting smile as she slipped through the archway, his gaze not moving from her form as she walked up the stairs. 

He let out a deep breath.

He needed air.

And she was certain, with the way he moved around her, that she had found her dance teacher.

**Author's Note:**

> All Elvhen comes from Fenxshiral's Project Elvhen!
> 
> Mythal, ma halani - Mythal, help me  
> Na dahn'direlan - you idiot, literally meaning "bee puncher"  
> Fen'harel ver na - Dread Wolf take you  
> Felasil - idiot, fool


End file.
